A Study in Potter
by LukeAreson
Summary: John Watson would never have believed that such things as magic and wizards existed, that is of course until a certain letter came in the Owl Post. In a world where logic cant be applied, he meets the eccentric Sherlock Holmes and the infamous Harry Potter as he struggles with homework, the sinister Slytherin pair: Malfoy and Moriarty and a whisper of the Dark Lord's return
1. The Letter

"Odd looking letter you've got there, love. What does it say, John?" Said Mrs Watson with a smile as she smeared a thick layer of jam over her breakfast toast. John struggled to find words, his mouth had run dry and his small hands fumbled for a chair as his eyes ran across the intricate green lettering.

"John? Are you okay sweetheart?" John couldn't speak, he simply handed over the piece of parchment to his mother and picked up his cup of tea with slightly shaking hands. _But, there was no such thing as magic,_ he thought hastily, trying to quell the building excitement in his chest. But he suddenly recalled childhood memories of moving objects with a glance and sending other children flying across the pitch by accident when playing rugby. And what about his father, the father he had never known? His mother had said he had been a soldier in a great war against very evil people and never said anything more, for the man had died when John was only a baby. John raised his eyes to his mother's face, suddenly alarmed to see she was crying, only to be relieved when she let out a watery but gleeful laugh. "I always knew it, you're just like your father! He would be so proud."

And with that, John Watson knew, with a burst of joy, that the letter was telling the truth. He had been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

At last, with his trunk packed with the bizarre assortment of items the letter had suggested and a hasty wave goodbye out of the car window, John was heading to Kings Cross Station with his sister, Harriet, who had only recently gotten her driving license. She seemed to be relishing in shouting at other drivers and playing her music loudly enough to earn many disapproving glares from pedestrians. John tried his best to ignore the clinking of empty bottles down at his feet in the passenger seat, instead examined the wand he had purchased the week before. He was still having a hard time getting his head around the idea that he was a wizard. Harriet grinned at him, her eyes dangerously leaving the road as she ruffled his sandy hair. "I can't believe you get to be whisked off to some bloody posh-boy magic-trick school and I'm still stuck in this dump, soldier."

She swerved just in time to avoid hitting the car in front. John was simply pleased that she hadn't thrown herself into one of her jealous tantrums when she'd heard the news. In fact, she had seemed to of perked up a lot recently since she had been spending time with a new friend- _Clara was her name?_

"I'll make sure to send you a white rabbit in the post." He replied with a chuckle.

"Yeah, and while you're there find out what's up with the post Johnnie, I'm not having any owls swooping into my damn room." She winked at him and they debated excitedly what Hogwarts would hold in store until they hit the busy streets of inner London and Harriet announced sharply she had to concentrate on driving after nearly hitting a couple of elderly women as they crossed the street.

Before John knew it he was stood in the middle of the swarming crowds of Kings Cross Station, looking nervously between the ticket clutched tightly in his grip and the space between platform nine and ten. He chewed his lip as he checked his watch, starting to regret his impulsive decision to let Harriet drive off once she'd help him load a trolley with his trunk, apparently she was meeting Clara and didn't want to be late. He only had ten minutes before his train was supposed to leave. "Damn it, Harry." He muttered, closing his eyes in frustration.

"Sorry, are you talking to me?" A voice said to his left. Snapping his eyes back open John began a hasty apology before taking in the scrawny, dark haired boy who had spoken. This boy, like him, also seemed to be alone and was pushing a trolley. But, most importantly, he had a bird cage with a snowy white owl screeching inside, sat on top of his luggage.

"Are you-I mean- Do you-," John scolded himself for being so anxious with his words and straightened his back as the dark haired boy nudged his glasses further up his nose nervously. "Are you going to Hogwarts?"

The other boy gave a relieved sigh and smile, "Yes, I am, thank goodness! Can you figure out how to get onto the platform? I asked the guard but I don't think that was a good idea." He gave a worried glance behind his shoulder where a man in uniform was looking at the two boys suspiciously.

"Maybe we should head off." John whispered and the other wizard boy nodded in his agreement. John stuck out his hand as they began to push their trolleys away, "I'm John Watson by the way."

"Harry Potter, it's nice to meet you" replied Harry, shaking the outstretched hand before pausing and staring over Johns shoulder. "John, I think they're wizards too, they might be able to help us."

John twisted to see a red headed family bustling through the crowd, all the boys in the family seemed to be pushing trolleys like John and Harry's. They decided it was the best option they had at the moment and hurriedly approached the family who warmly introduced themselves as the Weasleys.

Five minutes later they had all passed through the solid brick wall of the platform and boarded the scarlet Hogwarts Express. Harry and the youngest boy of the Weasleys, Ron, had disappeared into an empty compartment, offering John a seat to join them, but John had politely declined. He had suddenly felt very queasy and wasn't eager to throw up over people who had helped him so readily. Putting it down to nerves, he began walking down the train looking for a toilet when the train started moving suddenly and John stumbled in the carriageway, blundering straight into a portly boy who caught him with a quick, "Upsie-Daisy, you alright?"

John hastily got to his feet, "Thank you, sorry, yes I'm fine, are you?" The chubby boy smiled up at him, his eyes crinkly slightly through his spectacles. "Yeah, don't you worry about me. I'm Mike, Mike Stamford. You look a bit peaky mate, you might want to find a compartment to sit yourself down in."  
John gave a short laugh as the queasy feeling hit him again, "Trust me, no one wants a compartment with me."

Unexpectedly, Mike's friendly smile grew further before he said, "You know, you're the second person to say that to me this journey."

John furrowed his brow, "Really? Who was the first?"

After a quick wander further down the train they came to a compartment where John could just make out a single dark figure through the frosted glass of the door. Before they had even opened the door a deep baritone voice called from inside, "Mike, can I borrow your quill? I left mine in my trunk."

Mike grimaced at John as he slid the door open to reveal a tall pale boy with a mess of curly dark hair stretched across three of the seats, hastily sorting through a pile of parchment notes. Mike patted his pockets, "Sorry, I don't have mine either."

There was a second's pause before John stepped into the compartment, a biro held out in his hand. "Will this do?" He asked, and the boy looked up finally, his pale eyes sweeping over John. John stiffened, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He had the sudden impression that the boy wasn't all he seemed. Pale skin, dark hair, unnatural eyes…_did vampires exist in the wizarding world?_

The boy took the pen from him with long calloused fingers. "Thanks," he said, turning his attention back to his notes, "and no that's a ludicrous idea John, only wizards can attend Hogwarts. Oh and I like to play the violin when I'm thinking, I may not even talk for the rest of the journey, would that bother you?"

John started and twisted his head sharply to look at Mike who, to his surprise was smiling at him. "Yeah," he said with a chortle, "he does that. Anyway, I was looking for a lost toad when I ran into you, nice meeting you John!" And with that he was gone and John was left alone in the compartment with the apparent mind-reader. He stood awkwardly for a moment, staring at the pale boy before snapping out of it and grabbing his trunk and hoisting it above the seats. Slowly, he turned and sat on the seat, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. The boy was still sprawled lazily across the seats, but he suddenly flung his notes to the floor and swung his legs down so he was sitting, leaning on his knees with his head resting on his hand, staring at John.

"Alright, you've got questions." He said. John almost laughed at how odd it was to hear such a deep come from such a skinny boy, despite the fact he was so tall. However, he was still pretty certain this boy could read-

"No, I can't read minds John, that form of magic isn't taught at our level for several years, it's really a simple matter of observation."

John sat there with his mouth open in shock before stuttering, "H-How do you know my name?"

The boy's eyes suddenly lit up with excitement and he began speaking very fast. "The same way I know you're from a single parent family, your father, a soldier, died a long time ago. You aspire to be like him even though you can't remember anything about what he was really like, no, you were too young. I know you were brought to the station by your brother, _older brother,_ Harry. He can remember the death of your father and feels the loss worse, consequently has taken to drinking. How I know you're looking for someone to befriend but are too nervous to attempt making friendships, possibly because you don't know how you'd begin, more likely because you're worried they'd turn against you. I don't just see John, I observe."

John was seriously concerned he was going to be sick. However, he was resisting the urge to reach out and punch the pale face that was staring at him with burning grey eyes which had suddenly seemed to change to a gleaming green. John clenched his fists as he asked through gritted teeth, "How could you possibly know all that?"

The boy gestured loosely up to the trunk above Johns head on which the words "John H. Watson" were printed against the battered leather. "Your name, easy. Your clothes tell me the most, decent quality but a bit well worn, most likely come from a single income household. Your father: single parent and you have a small lipstick smudge on your right cheek where a mother would kiss you goodbye until next summer. Plus your watch, _silver_, it's not a boy's watch, it doesn't even seem to work, so why would you wear it? Sentiment. It was your fathers, you wear it to not only remember him but so you can convince yourself you are like him. Mimicking a father? Not a common idolisation, therefore he died before you could get to know him, you don't remember any of his faults. You're proud of him, the way you stand even your hair cut, its military so he's a soldier, probably died in combat. Now, your brother. A letter sticking out of your pocket signed "love Harry", unopened, you haven't even noticed it's there. That means it was given to you when you were distracted: coming into the station. The drinking? Your shoes are splashed with alcohol from the foot well of where you were sat, from here you can smell it, don't worry, it's only slightly. The alcohol is strong, it's a serious problem then, not just drinking for pleasure. Now you, your friendship issues. That was a simple matter of listening, I heard you walk past this compartment with two other boys who you were chatting with happily. Why not stay with them?"

The boy's eyes didn't soften as he began detailing on John's psychological profile. John felt numb, his anger replaced with shock as he gaped.

"Proud and loyal, you weren't suited to the tacky material friendships formed in childhood. Especially when you found yourself on the receiving end of a vicious bully-group. But no, you wouldn't just stand there and take it. No. Your knuckles, John." John glanced down at his hands where white and pink scars scattered the tanned skin. "You fought back, but you now have trust issues, never sure whether the next person who comes along will play nice just to stab you in the back. And finally, how did I know you thought I wasn't human?"

It was only then that the boy gave a small wry smile. "Well, let's just say you're not the first."

Silence filled the compartment. The boy leaned back in his seat and stared out of the window at the clouds and landscape passing by. John slowly realised his mouth was still open and closed it, swallowed and ran his hand through his hair. He exhaled nosily before beginning to chuckle. The boy sharply turned his head, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"That," John began, "was amazing."

The boy's tight expression of distrust suddenly cleared in brilliant surprise. "You think so?"

"Of course it was it was extraordinary." John grinned even wider, nodding his head, "It was quite extraordinary"

The boy looked as though he was suppressing a small smile before returning his gaze to the window, "That's not what people usually say"

"What do they usually say?"

"Piss off."

John burst out laughing just as the carriage doors were flung open. A pale boy with a pointed face and white blonde hair stood there, sneering down at them, with two other heavy-set boys behind him who closely resembled a pair gorillas which John had seen at the zoo in the summer when a python had escaped unexplainably.

"Oh, sorry," said the boy, who didn't sound sorry at all, "We were looking for Harry Potter, have you seen him?"

John didn't like the sound of this boy's snide voice, and decided quickly that he wasn't telling him anything about where Harry and Ron were sat. But before he could tell the boy to leave, he spoke again, this time looking closely at the boy John was sharing the compartment with.

"You're a Holmes aren't you? My father is always talking about your family. One of the last pure blood families left, and your brother is a Slytherin Prefect, yes?" The boy stuck out his hand.

"Draco Malfoy, it's nice to keep good blood in company, don't you think?"

The Holmes boy looked incredibly bored with the whole affair, and just glanced at the pale hand that had been extended towards him. "Ummm…." He began. "_No." _

Malfoy withdrew his hand sharply, affronted. The thuggish boys behind him cracked their knuckles and glared angrily at Holmes, of whom had picked up his notes and was flicking through them as he spoke in a drawl that challenged Malfoys.

"Firstly, it's Sherlock Holmes. Secondly, the idea that a person's blood determines their class or character is both medieval and childish. Thirdly, if you ever relate me to either my brother or any of my so called family again I will personally write to your father and tell him that you've been caught in a compromising situation with no less than _seven _muggle-borns."

Malfoy's already pale face blanched even more before turning pink with anger.

"You'll regret that, you jumped-up snob" he spat, his voice rising in pitch.

"That's rich from someone called _Draco Malfoy_." Said John suddenly, the excitement of a fight beginning to pump through his veins. The three boys in the doorway only just seemed to notice that he was there. Malfoy's pink tint spread to the tips of his ears and he yelped, "_Crabbe! Goyle!" _

The two boys started forward and John leapt to his feet, his fists clenched, but before any blow could be thrown the boy, Sherlock his name was, flicked his wand lazily and Malfoys thugs were scooted smartly from the compartment and thudded heavily into the carriage way.

"Thank you for your input Malfoy." Sherlock called as he flicked the wand again and the door slid sharply shut in the blonde's face. John sat down again and found he couldn't stop smiling. Sherlock was looking out the window and said quietly, "We better change into our robes, we're getting close to the castle."

He looked at Johns face, and finally cracked a wide toothy grin.

"You got something wrong you know." John said as he pulled on his cloak and Sherlock froze.

"What? There's always something, dammnit…"

"Harry is my _sister_."

"_Sister!" _Sherlock hissed and John chuckled happily as the lanky boy threw his clothes around the compartment muttering to himself. He was looking forward to life at Hogwarts more every minute.


	2. The Sorting

"Its bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History" _said a bushy haired girl with a bossy sort of voice to John as he stared open mouthed again, but this time at the ceiling of Hogwarts' Great Hall which melted into rich black speckled with stars. He had barely been inside the castle five minutes but he was already blown away by the craziness of it all, whether it be the ghosts which had suddenly burst out of the wall, the giant bearded man who had led them up to the school or the lone tentacle John had thought he'd seen in the inky water when he was sat next to Sherlock in their little boat as they crossed the lake. But now he, along with all the other first years were stood nervously in front of the entire school as a strict looking witch who had introduced herself as Professor McGonagall placed a stool with a dirty old hat before them.

In the following silence, John caught Harry's eye and was slightly relieved to see that he was completely bewildered too. He jumped violently when the hat unexpectedly started singing, and ended up missing most of the complex song as he was too shocked at see an inanimate object bellowing out a ballad. Nevertheless, he grasped it had been about the four school houses and amidst the applause that followed he twisted to ask Sherlock, "What house do you recon you'll get put into?"

Sherlock shrugged, already looking bored.

"Your brother, Malfoy said he was in Slytherin. Maybe you'll go there." John wondered aloud. Sherlock curled his lip and leaned in to murmur, "He would have done better in Hufflepuff."

"What makes you say that?" John asked.

"Their common room is next to the kitchen." Sherlock smirked. John felt like he was missing a joke here but smiled anyway, finding comfort in how the taller boy didn't seem fazed by the pressure of the situation. John hoped silently, as the crowd went silent once more, that he would be in the same house as this unusual but fantastic boy. Suddenly names were being called out and children were rushing up the stone steps to shove the wrinkled hat upon their heads. "Abbott", "Anderson" and "Bones" all went to Hufflepuff and John turned to look at the table decorated with yellow and black banners. They seemed a cheerful bunch, clapping and greeting the new students with warm smiles. John didn't think he'd mind joining that house. But amongst the first three, "Adler, Irene" had been called and was the first to be sent to Slytherin. With a painted red smile the girl sauntered over and sat amongst the students at the green and silver table. John ran his eyes up the Slytherin crowd and decided with a gulp that he didn't want to join their ranks. Nervously glancing at Sherlock, he hoped his new friend didn't end up there either. After the bushy haired girl who had spoken to John earlier had been sorted into Gryffindor, "Holmes, Sherlock" was called.

John chewed the inside of his cheek, fingers crossed by his side as he watched Sherlock stride up to the stool and flick the hat upon his head. An extensive wait began. Almost three minutes had passed and the students had started murmuring amongst themselves, wondering what was taking the hat so long. Sherlock was looking more and more irritable. Curiously the hat seemed to be twitching, as though it was under stress and was beginning to panic. Finally, Sherlock snapped, "Oh, come _on!" _The hat quivered before opening its ripped mouth and announcing for the school to hear, "_RAVENCLAW!"_

The Ravenclaws clapped politely but most exchanged worried glances as Sherlock swept over and sat alone on the end of the table. John at least, was relieved that Sherlock hadn't had to sit next to the Adler-girl and smiled once he had caught his eye. Sherlock rested his face on his hand again and rolled his eyes. "_Dull._" He mouthed before glaring at "_Boot, Terry"_ who had cautiously extended a hand towards him. The hand was hastily pulled back.

"_Moran, Sebastian" _was being sorted by the time John looked back with interest. The boy had a strong jaw and a fierce look about him and his broad shoulders looked odd on his young frame. John was just thinking that Moran looked like a leaner, blonder version of Crabbe or Goyle when the hat yelled "Gryffindor!" and the boy's face split into a genuine smile, looking a lot less fearsome as he ran over to the red and gold table, grinning as the Weasley twins thumped him on the back. John scolded himself for judging someone so early and looked away quickly with a flushed face when Moran glanced up in time to catch John staring. John really had to stop staring.

Sat now on the Sorting Stool was "_Moriarty, James"_ a pale faced boy with dark eyes and hair who had greedily shoved the hat upon his head and was staring fixatedly into the crowd of students. John felt a tingle of unease surrounding the boy. Something didn't seem right. With mounting apprehension, he followed the boy's gaze into the crowd and felt a chill as he realised the centre of his intense attention was focused on Sherlock who was twiddling his wand between his fingers, oblivious to the sinister gaze he was being held in. The hat screamed, "_SLYTHERIN!" _as if it was eager to get off of the boy, and Moriarty knocked it off, scampering over to the cheering table but never moving his eyes from Sherlock, a troubling smile plastered on his face as he sat next to Malfoy. John tried to put the boy out of his mind as Harry got sorted into Gryffindor earning the biggest cheer yet. However, his eyes kept drifting over to the Slytherin table, so much so that he had barely noticed that "_Watson, John" _had been called off the list. He stumbled forward, grasping the hat like everyone else and settling it on his head. To his surprise a small voice whispered in his ear, "Yes, yes, lots of courage here. Loyalty too, not to mention the brains. You've got a smart head on your shoulders but I think you belong in- GRYFFINDOR!"

John let out a relieved sigh as he plucked the hat off his head and lay it back on the stool, trotting over to the whooping Gryffindor table but not before he stole a glance at the Ravenclaw table where a small smile and nod of approval reached him.

He chose a spot next to Sebastian Moran and opposite Harry after a ghost in a ruff offered him his seat ("It's no problem, it's not like I could enjoy the food" he had said with a sad sort of smile). Joined shortly by Ron, and after a bizarre welcoming statement from no one less than Albus Dumbledore himself they all tucked into a sumptuous feast that materialised before them. As they ate, John and Sebastian began talking and it turned out they had a lot in common, both from muggle families, had lost their fathers and, what they considered most importantly, loved rugby. They were arguing playfully about their favourite teams when John realised Ron was squinting at them oddly.

"But you can't fly at all? And you have to move the ball yourself? Sounds rubbish compared to quidditch, the Chudley Cannons would kick both your team's arses any day I bet." He grinned. After a quick explanation from Ron, all four boys agreed enthusiastically that they would be signing up for the Gryffindor team as soon as they could, despite Percy Weasley's insistence that first years couldn't play in school matches.

When any of them couldn't eat another bite, the food vanished and Dumbledore called for silence once more. John felt so stuffed he didn't think he could speak if he tried. He tried to listen to the speech but he was far more interested in looking for Sherlock amongst the crowds. He finally spotted his distinctive curly mop beside an angry looking Ravenclaw Prefect. Though she was gesturing silently, John was pretty sure that she was scolding Sherlock for setting fire to her hair. Sherlock didn't seem to be paying attention though, he had caught John's eye. He made a curious gesture, flicking his eyes up to a point above John's head and then back down. John glanced up at the spot and saw a little paper bird flapping around his head. He snatched it down as the entire school began bellowing the school song, the lyrics of which had burst out the end of Dumbledore's wand. Over the noise, John read:

_Bored –SH_

But before he could write a reply and toss it over (there was no way he'd be able to magic it across), students were filing out of the hall and off to their common rooms. The boys followed the rest of the Gryffindor crowd up to the tower, and after a brief encounter with a poltergeist, they clambered into through the portrait hole which led to the gorgeous common room. John would have loved to sit and take in the cosy atmosphere, but he, like the other boys, were simply too sleepy to do anything other than plod upstairs and collapse happily on their new four poster beds. They all mumbled a slurred "'Nigh-night." and it wasn't long before John heard four separate contented snores. Just as he himself drifted into his own dreams, the wry, smiling face of Sherlock swam into his thoughts. John smiled, and wondered how his odd friend was finding his own dormitory before falling into a deep dreamless sleep.


	3. The First Day

John couldn't exactly remember waking up or following the other first years down stairs, but the smell of warm toast once he'd sat down at the Gryffindor table quickly brought him to his senses. He chewed a jammy mouthful thoughtfully as timetables were passed around and a voice beside him said, "We have Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts together. Thank _god,_ I don't think I'd be able to make it through the latter otherwise."

John started and spilled his Pumpkin Juice as Sherlock slid into the seat beside him. Just as well – he wasn't sure if he was taken on the odd drink and was starting to wonder if Hogwarts provided tea.

"Why? I thought the Defence-ey one looked good." John grimaced as he tried to wring the juice from his jumper sleeves.

"Well yes, learning how to arm ourselves against the darker aspects of the wizarding world is both fascinating and essential. However-" Sherlock drawled as he flicked through a copy of The Daily Prophet and lazily pointed up at the High Table, "I'm not holding out any hopes for a certain Professor Quirrell."

John had to admit that the young professor Sherlock's long fingers had flicked towards looked like he could do with a hot cup of tea. At the thought of tea, John returned to squinting down the table for the sign of a teapot. It was only then that he realised both he and Sherlock were being glared rather viciously by Hermione Granger who he recognised from the Sorting the night before. Upon meeting John's eyes she huffed and nodded her head at Sherlock pointedly. John just kept staring bemusedly until she huffed again and marched over to the Weasley boy that was wearing an extremely shiny prefect badge on his chest. Within a few moments they were both standing over the two boys with matching scowls over their faces. Sherlock didn't look up from his paper as the prefect cleared his throat loudly. John suppressed a smile and tried to ask as seriously as he could, "Is there anything we can help you with?"

"Yes, there is." The prefect announced pompously whilst glaring at the back of Sherlock's head. "We have designated tables for each house at Hogwarts and _he _is a Ravenclaw, sat at the _Gryffindor_ table."

A quick glance down the table told John that most of the Gryffindor table didn't really give a toss whether a Ravenclaw was salsa dancing on the table. Ron, Harry and Sebastian had just come down to sit next to the Weasley twins and all five were now grinning over at them. Fred and George Weasley both winked at John and began flicking pieces of cereal at the prefect. John had to give him credit here as he refused to acknowledge the twins even when the pieces began bouncing off his glasses.

"He'll have to go and sit back with his own house." Hermione chipped in, flicking her bushy hair over her shoulder with an air of importance. The whole affair seemed quite farcical to John.

Sherlock finally sighed and threw the paper down on the table, turning his head to look at the angry expressions aimed at him. John couldn't hold back the grin this time: the boy looked utterly uninterested in everything. The pale eyes glanced at the two irritable Gryffindor's once before turning to the Ravenclaw table. John felt a small twinge of fear in his stomach. Sherlock wouldn't leave him would he? John didn't have a chance to consider how worrying this sudden dependence on a boy he met yesterday was before Sherlock picked up the paper again and spoke at last whilst choosing an article to read.

"I don't think you want me to do that Percy. Whatever would Miss Donovan say if I told her about your suspicious prejudices against Ravenclaws? Oh no, I think it's best if me and John stay here."

Percy Weasley suddenly flushed as red as his hair as he nervously glanced over the hall at the Ravenclaw Prefect who's hair Sherlock had set alight last night as the Weasley boys, Harry and Sebastian all burst into guffaws.

"I-I have no idea what you're implying! Mine and Sally's relationship is purely professional, I-I…" Percy seemed to run out of excuses and briskly marched away to bury his glowing face in a very boring looking book. Sherlock peeked over the edge of his paper with twinkling eyes at John who had finally found the tea and met his gaze over the brim of a warm tea cup. Hermione hadn't moved however.

"No one said that John would have to leave too, he would stay here with the rest _of the Gryffindor's."_ She hissed like an angry cat. The twinkle didn't leave Sherlock's eye as he lifted his gaze to the bossy girl and said with a small smirk, "Don't be ridiculous Granger, of course he'd come with me."

Sherlock glanced quickly, almost apprehensively, back at John as if he had said too much. John met the eyes with a small but clear nod, his face set firm so not to betray the strange sensation inside his ribs. His breath seemed to be coming a little short and there was a fluttering feeling in his chest, not entirely unpleasant but… unfamiliar. The slight nervousness in Sherlock vanished instantly and the tall boy grinned as Hermione opened her mouth to say something more.

"Well, we best be off, I think I left my wand in the Hospital Wing." He gave a charming false smile to the flustered girl as he stood and threw his bag over his shoulder. "Come along, John- Transfiguration soon."

John gulped the last of his tea and snatched up his own bag. Hermione looked furious as the two sauntered away and John called a quick "Catch you later!" to the other first year boys who were still laughing into their breakfasts.

"You didn't eat anything, won't you get hungry?" John asked as they started up the staircase. Sherlock tightened his blue Ravenclaw scarf around his neck before answering absently, "Hungry? No, no- I ate yesterday, I'll be fine for a few more days."

"What? Sherlock, you have to eat!" John replied, aghast.

"Of course I do, just not every day. It slows me down." He tapped his curly head as they climbed higher, "It's all just transport."

"Transport? Seriously?" John just shook his head when Sherlock didn't reply. "Right well tell me if walking becomes too much of a hassle when you have to haul around that mighty brain."

Sherlock grinned before slumping dramatically across John, throwing him off balance and almost causing them to both fall. "It's too much John, I can't go on!"

"Get out of it!" John laughed as he threw the boy off and took off racing up the rest of the stairs. Sherlock stayed right on his tail until they reached the Hospital Wing where they collapsed red, sweaty and struggling to laugh and get their breath at the same time.


End file.
